


In Which The Decent People of Beacon Hills Are Offended....repeatedly.

by Bunnywest



Series: Rabbit verse [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Homophobia, M/M, Public Display of Affection, References to Knotting, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-03 05:06:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10960290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunnywest/pseuds/Bunnywest
Summary: Stiles doesn't get mad, he gets even. Peter helps. Gladly.(Or, what happens when a genius and an ex psychopath are sick of your bullshit)





	1. The Dangers of Inter-species Relations

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure where this is gonna go, so I'm tagging madly. Peter assures me all these things will definitely happen, and he's usually right.

Stiles has always gotten on OK with Tammy his neighbor. She’s a quiet woman, but she always says hello and waves shyly when they see each other, ducking her head and blushing.

Peter thinks it’s cute when he has to point out to Stiles that that’s Tammy’s version of flirting and that he’s just been too dense to see it.

Once Peter points it out,Stiles thinks that maybe there’s something to that theory, if only because after Tammy saw Peter leaving  early in the morning not once but twice, the shy smiles turned into hard stares, and the waving just flat out disappeared.  Huh. He figures she’s just upset she missed her chance, even though really she was never his type.

He reassesses this view a few days later when they go to leave the apartment in the morning, and there’s an envelope tacked to the front door.

He opens it to find it stuffed full of “Come to Jesus, Leave your life of sin behind” and "Burn in Hell, you abomination to the Lord" type pamphlets. They’re badly designed, and the poor choice of fonts and slapdash layout upsets him almost as much at the content himself. He’d thought people were past this type of thing, honestly.

He turns from the door, still holding the hate mail, when he hears a sound behind him, and catches Tammy closing her door. Ah. OK then.

After that, once a week, he finds similar trash either slipped under the door or pinned up outside. Since there’s really not a hell of a lot he can do, he ignores it, as irritating as it is.

But then there’s the evening that Peter and he come back from the bar. They’re getting a little handsy in the hallway, and hey, there might be some slightly sexual noises, but he didn’t think they were being that loud, when suddenly there’s a bang as Tammy’s door flies open and suddenly she’s there in his face, screaming _“Leviticus 18:22 - 'You shall not lie with a male as one lies with a female; it is an abomination_ _!!!”_

And he’s suddenly so, so angry that he can barely breathe. He feels his hands start to curl into fists, because this is _bullshit,_ when he hears Peter’s smooth, sultry drawl next to him say “Well, that’s ok then Honey, because he’s not lying with a man. He’s fucking  a _wolf”_ ,  followed by a low growl.

And he doesn’t even need to look to know that Peter’s fangs are extended and his claws are out, Tammy’s shocked expression and sharp intake of breath tells him everything.

And then, smooth as anything, Peter singsongs “have a lovely evening Tammy, we certainly will” while slapping Stiles’ ass sharply.

She retreats back into her door faster than they thought possible.

Stiles is still furious, but Peter manages to distract him. They make sure to have loud sex against the connecting wall this time.

 

That’s not the end of it though. Now he gets a new type of trash leaflet, warning of the dangers of inter species relations.

Apparently some of the things he has to look out for are

  * The damnation of his eternal soul (well obviously)
  * Monthly mood swings in his partner
  * Broken bones caused by violent behavior ( see mood swings apparently)
  * Being pounced on when running anywhere ( the round bed springs to mind)
  * Poor health from eating too much red meat
  * Loss of his sexual organs through unexpected biting (Jesus, who even writes this stuff?)
  * Possessive and overly protective behavior…ok that one might have a hint of truth…..



          and his personal favourite,

  * Excess shedding.



 

Peter withdraws into himself for a day and a half when he reads it, and Stiles can’t blame him.

Stiles isn’t an idiot OK?

He knows people are going to have problems with Peter being his boyfriend. If it’s not the gay thing, it’s the wolf thing, or the age thing. He’s screwed six ways till Sunday as far as the conservatives go. And hey, normally, Stiles likes to think he’s a live and let live kind of guy, but when it upsets Peter like this?

 Well, maybe wolves aren't the only ones who get protective.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

The thing is, Tammy’s  a regular library user, because she doesn’t have internet at home.

The library  is where Stiles is in charge.

Where he has all resources of the Beacon Hills Public Council at his disposal.

Fun fact, Stiles is an absolute master in Publisher.

And he gets to pick what goes in that big display as you come in the front doors, the one they change every month or so.

Stiles thinks this month they’re going to change it early.

 

He stays up for 76 hours straight designing and printing the posters and flyers for “Beacon Hills Werewolf Appreciation Month”, having more fun than he’d like to admit.  The finished effect is as subtle as a brick though a window –Stiles thinks it’s hilarious – but it also drives home his point .

The front cover of the leaflet he's designed features the cheesiest picture of himself and Peter he could manage, both dressed in their conservative best, leaning to each other on a window seat, Peter drinking coffee and smiling his most sincere smile, and Stiles looking up at him adoringly. They’re holding hands. (Stiles based it on a picture of that homeschooling couple with twenty kids, not gonna lie).

“Safety In His Arms!” proclaims the title. And inside, the product of his and Peter’s devious minds, is a list of reasons why "Dating a Werewolf is Just the best thing I ever did!-“  *source S Stilinski, Beacon Hills*

  * Safety from home invaders and stray dogs
  * Always warm, because werewolves are just big snuggly heaters
  * The healthy benefits of spending time outdoors in the woods, knowing your wolf will keep you safe from any other predators
  * They will lift heavy things effortlessly (Peter had arched an eyebrow, but said nothing, so it stayed in).
  * Enhanced intimacy ( just that, teasing, leaving people wondering…how exactly?)
  * Protective behaviors
  * No fear of breaking God’s law about laying with a man.



(It also has a list of recommended reading on werewolf customs and culture, because Stiles is a research geek and he won’t be denied).

The poster though, that’s what he’s most proud of. It’s a masterpiece of deranged thinking and six cans of Red Bull.

Noahs Ark.

The animals entering two by two.

And a werewolf couple in beta form, holding hands and walking up the gangplank.

And screaming out from across the top in rainbow colours a foot high,

 “ GOD LOVES ALL HIS CREATIONS. DO YOU?”

That one gets made into a six foot high wall panel directly behind the display table.

\------------------------------------------------------ ------------------------

 

There’s another poster, this one of typical white boy Jesus, looking like he stepped off the cover of every children’s bible ever designed, with a lap full of children….and wolf pups.  “I CREATED THE WOLVES AND I LOVE THEM” proclaims the byline. It’s the best kind of religious creepy.

 

Stiles prints twelve and plasters the front windows, puts three in the display, and makes sure there are smaller copies displayed in the restrooms, just to drive the point home.

 

 

 

He also makes a giant archway of balloons with tiny paw prints on them. Underneath, he sets up a display or Were-positive literature, ranging from autobiographies  to romances, (heavy on the wolf/human harlequins, he doesn’t deny it), a list of Were celebrities, scientists, sports heroes, the Presidential Werewolf Bodyguard Detail, and any other positive press he can think of.

 Cute cartoon wolf plushies are suspended over the desks and doorways. There are Paw prints on the floor leading to the children’s section, where a table full of friendly kids’ books by werewolf authors is on display. There are colouring in sheets and stickers.

All the screen savers on the public computers are changed to the picture of Stiles and Peter. The wifi password is changed to CelebrateWolves.

And every single book that’s checked out has a copy of that pamphlet tucked inside it. Every single person goes home holding that god-awful cheesy pic of him and Peter looking like Stepford Wolves.

He hopes it’s enough.

 

 

The public’s reaction to his shenanigans is….surprisingly positive, actually.

The wolves in town know that he’s gone over the top to make a point, and are just entertained. It doesn’t hurt that he’s their beloved Sheriffs son, and Peter is exceedingly popular within their community, despite his former reputation.   

The little old ladies who come in stop trying to pair Stiles off with their granddaughters , which is a relief, although more than one of them corners him with a twinkle in their eye and demands to know “about the intimacy dear, enhanced how exactly?”

 He’s reduced to using that old chestnut of “A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell” which earns him a lot of disappointed looks.

The twenty-somethings laugh themselves stupid – most of them went to school with Stiles, and they know what he’s like if you piss him off.

 

 _____________________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

The first time Tammy comes in is worth everything- worth the cost of printing, worth the marathon design session, worth the Red Bull hangover.

She stands under the balloon arch for a full two minutes, mouth agape, frozen to the spot.

Stiles goes over to her and is obsequiously polite, offering her the small card with the new Wifi password on it with his best smile.

Peter’s already there, he’d come down to see how it looked all set up, and he takes her arm like he’s Cary Grant himself and leads he to the computers, purely so he can see her expression when she catches a glimpse of the new screen saver.

They stand behind her, grinning like a pair of sharks circling a tired swimmer.

They know there’s nothing she can do, Stiles has approval for this and there’s nowhere else she can go in town for free wifi. She’s not happy , but she’s stuck with it.

Stiles comments to Peter later that she didn’t even seem _grateful_  when they were handing out free cupcakes with wolfy cake toppers – rude.

Peter snorts around Stiles' cock in his mouth, and goes back to what he does best – reducing Stiles to a screaming, writhing mess.

 

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

The other thing that happens is that he gets to have quite a few private conversations in the quieter areas of the library, talking to people who are attracted to wolves, but have nobody to talk to about it without feeling judged. And that breaks his heart a little, honestly.

And so, after the sweet taste of victory, after seeing that for every person who turns away pulling a face when they kiss, there are two who mutter “hot damn”, he makes a decision.

He’s dating a hot man who happens to be a werewolf, and who is probably too good for him. He’s not going to hide it, he’s not going to apologise.

As long as this thing with Peter lasts, they’re going to be out and interspecies and proud. And anyone who doesn’t like it will have Stiles to deal with.

 

Stiles Stilinski is mad as hell, and he’s not going to take it anymore.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there happened to be any artistically inclined people out there or photoshop wizards who would like to have a crack at designing those posters and leaflets, please, feel free to have at it. I'll reward you with porn, probably with a side of snark.


	2. Outside my Jurisdiction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems you can't even go out for breakfast anymore without someone calling your boyfriend a dirty old man. Stiles isn't having any of it.

To say Peter is entertained by Stiles’ determination to make piss off the bigoted assholes of Beacon Hills would be putting it mildly.

He thinks it may be the greatest thing he’s seen in years.

At the same time, a part of him that he’s not looking at too closely is touched at seeing this protective Stiles, and a little overwhelmed that Stiles values his feelings so highly.

He shows his appreciation in the usual way – mind blowing sex. ( And because he feels so generous, he doesn’t even make Stiles beg.)

 

Afterwards, as they lay in what Stiles has dubbed the “recovery position” with Peter nuzzled up to Stiles’ throat, he thinks to ask him “Why didn’t you use _Guide to Werewolves_ in the display, sweetheart? It would have made national news, a copy being openly displayed”.

“Nope”, Stiles mutters, “national news don’t deserve it. It’s just an _us_ thing” and his careless use of the term _us_ makes Peter feel dangerously warm and fuzzy.

They’ve been dating for four months, and they have  “us” things.

Peter drifts off to sleep, the words _an_ _us thing_ drifting round his head.

 

When they wake, they decide for a change to go out for breakfast. They usually don’t bother, but Stiles is  kinda sorta sick of hiding to keep the idiots happy.

 

They place their orders and sit down,  and Stiles is surprised to hear his father’s voice drifting over the chatter. It’s the tone of voice he uses when he wants to shoot someone but can’t justify it.

 Stiles cranes around, looking for the source.

He sees the local minister’s wife earbashing his father about something, he doesn’t know what. He vaguely remembers the woman from high school, she’d been one of the brigade of “Concerned Citizens” foolish enough to berate Lydia about the length of her skirts, telling her she was inflaming the passions of local boys. (Lydia had replied “excellent!” and walked off with her head held high.)

So yeah, one of those.

He hears the reply though “-Ma’am, I don’t know what you want me to say. My son’s a grown man, and he and Peter aren’t breaking any laws.”

 And, what? Maybe this is a conversation he should be listening to more closely?

“As far as I’m concerned ma’am, Stiles and Peter are adults, and they can date who they please. Their private life is outside my jurisdiction” his father huffs out, and from his tone Stiles gathers that this conversation has been going on for a while now.

 Stiles loves his Dad right now for defending them, but still, he shouldn’t have to.

He and Peter exchange a look – a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. 

Stiles gets up heads over to where his Dad is sitting, and the woman in question obviously hasn't seen him approach, because he arrives just in time to hear –“…and  I’m sure there’s laws against those sorts of people acting like that. Nobody wants to see a dirty old man groping at a man-child in public, it’s disgusting!  Your son was seen touching and kissing with that lecherous old wolf at his workplace last week, with no regard for if anyone could see them. And a friend told me that there have been rumours of quite _filthy_ public….activities – in the park at night!” She finishes triumphantly, spots of colour rising in her cheeks.

And woah, wait – dirty old man? Lecher! The park? (That was one time, honestly, and he was pretty sure they were mostly dressed by the time those runners came by…. )

He looks across the room at Peter, and can see from his closed off expression that he’s heard every word, and damn it to hell, how dare she upset Peter with her foul accusations? How dare she try and make what they have into something wrong? That’s not OK, and Stiles feels protectiveness surge up in his chest, hot and bright.

 

 As he approaches the table, he’s fuming now. No, scratch that, he’s fucking _furious._

He pretends he hasn’t witnessed any of that exchange as he reaches the table, and grabs Noah in a rough hug, greeting him with  “Hey Pops!”. Then he waves over at Peter, yelling “Hey Honey! Come have breakfast with my Dad!”

Peter obediently follows. He’s heard the woman’s ranting, and it takes all his self-control not to flash his eyes and growl at her. How dare she imply that Stiles is a child? The young man’s a certified genius and an adult, where does she get off upsetting him?

He can only guess how Stiles will react. It’s sure to be nothing good.

 

And true to form, as Peter approaches, Stiles lays his head on his shoulder, looks up at him through long lashes, and coos “Hey, lover….” in his best Marilyn Monroe voice.

Then he wraps his arms around Peter’s neck like a koala, and kisses him softly. No tongue, nothing even remotely indecent, just…intimate.

Oh, thinks Peter, so that’s how they’re playing this? He can get behind that.

“Hello Sweetheart” he murmurs, running his fingers gently up and down the back of Stiles’ neck, earning a warm sound from the young man.

Stiles hears a sharp intake of breath, and turns to their scandalized witness, Mrs…Sanders? Saunders? Something like that, and gives her his brightest smile.

“Hey, Mrs. Sanderson”, he offers, deliberately mangling her name, “How’s it going? Have you met my boyfriend Peter Hale?”

The lady in question folds her arms and lifts her nose in the air, refusing to acknowledge Peter or meet his eyes, and that’s just plain disrespectful, so Stiles has no choice now but to bring out the big guns.

 

“Peter owns the bar, two blocks over, you know, BBW? You must know it, I’m sure. Your husband’s in there all the time.

Is it his….nephew that I see him there with? The young blonde?” he drops lightly into the conversation.

 And maybe it’s cruel, because half the town knows about the ongoing affair between the Reverend and the young mechanic, but Stiles isn’t feeling particularly kind today, so sue him.

He watches the woman sputter and go pale, finally choking out “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

 

“Really? Because the rest of the town does, _Ma’am_ ” he spits out in a parody of manners. ”So maybe you should be talking to _him_ about dirty old men and their filthy activities, instead of worrying about me and Peter. And by the way, since I KNOW you want to know, because you’re discussing it and all, Peter’s fucking amazing in bed – werewolf stamina, you should try it”- and then, holding her gaze, he fucking _winks_.

He turns back to Peter, and gropes his ass shamelessly, pulling him in and grinding against him. making deliberately pornographic sounds, because by now all restraint has flown out the window.

 Peter, who really really should know better, and really really should be the one to act like an adult, finds himself incredibly turned on by this new, Gives No Fucks Stiles.

So he kisses him, hard and filthy, pulling him in closer until they’re sandwiched together, close enough that you couldn’t fit a sheet of paper between them.

Both of them are moaning through the kiss, and by the time it ends, their target audience has stormed out, a couple of people are wolf whistling and clapping, and the Sheriff has his head in his hands, groaning out “Dammit Stiles!”

Their breakfast orders are thrust at them by the manager, packed up as takeout, and they’re  hustled out the door with a muttered comment  of “Get a damned room!”

As they step out the door, Peter, still flushed from making out, drawls “What a wonderful idea, shall we darling?” and proceeds to stroll down the street to the Beacon Hills Hotel, Stiles following him eagerly, where he checks them in, making sure to tell the receptionist that they are not to be disturbed, for ANY reason, for the next twelve hours.

Peter doesn’t think he’s _ever_ had anyone so protective or possessive of _him_ before, and if he chooses to reward that behavior and encourage it, that’s his business.


	3. Amazing Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember in Run, Rabbit Run, where Peter and Stiles are banned from the local Outdoor Maze?  
> This is that story.
> 
> Stiles blushes prettily when he tells Peter about the time when he was about fourteen, and he came across a couple doing the deed - they didn’t see him, and he didn’t linger, but it was enough for the images to be seared into his lustful teenage brain. For the longest time it was his go to fantasy when he wanted to get himself off, and he’s always wanted to try it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, you guys really seem to like badass protective Stiles. As a natural complement to that, I give you - badass protective Peter.

They’re playing twenty questions again, not for any reason particularly, just a way to pass the time while they wait for the lasagna to cook.

“Biggest fantasy turn on APART from wall sex, sex in general, biting and nipple play, and that’s something that it’s _actually_ possible to do, so skydiving sex is out” asks Peter.  

Stiles snorts at the list of exclusions, typical of Peter.

He thinks about it as he lays face down on the bed with Peter massaging his calves. (Peter loves his calves, he loves getting calf massages. It’s win win).

“Possible in Beacon Hills, or possible in a perfect world?” he clarifies.

“Because in a perfect world? You knotting me.  I know it’s not actually a thing ok, I’m just saying, and you did say fantasy.

But in Beacon Hills? Sex in The Maze”. He nods definitively.

 “My turn.  Biggest no go, don’t want to try it, will never want to try it, off limits turn off?”

 

“Watersports and scat” Peter replies absently, because he’s still processing Stiles’ earlier answer. Both parts intrigue him. 

He smiles, though, when he hears a relieved “Oh Thank God about that” in response to his answer. They’re so often in agreement when they play this game.

 

“My turn, and you need to turn look me for this one. I want to see your face“ Peter demands, and there’s something in his voice that catches Stiles, interest, a tone that suggests he’s going to like what follows.

He raises himself off the bed and sits cross legged facing Peter.

“OK Wolfman, hit me with the big question” he states. He has to admit, he doesn’t really mind looking at Peter, it’s no hardship when the werewolf is shirtless and wearing low slung sweat pants.

“When I gave you the _Guide to Werewolves_ , did you _actually_ read the whole book _including_ the diagrams of werewolf anatomy, or did you look through it, sigh over it, flick through a few of the pages, and then lock it in a safe at the library or possibly the police station…aaaaaand….. _if_  there was possibly a piece of information in that book that you _might_ have missed that may or may not relate to your fantasy, would you prefer me to tell you, sweetheart, or do you prefer to go home tonight, read the damn book, taking into account _all_ the information provided, and then we can have a conversation about it? And also when shall we go to the Maze?”

He throws that last bit in there as an attempt to distract Stiles, but damn, the boy's always been quick, and Peter sees the moment he _gets_ it, and leaps up flailing and shouting “HOLY FUCK PETER DO YOU HAVE A KNOT!?”

“Um…” Peter hedges “maybe sometimes?”, because it’s not that simple, but Stiles is looking at him expectantly, a predatory gleam in his eye.

Peter explains that he _can_ knot, but only if he’s shifted, which is why it’s incredibly risky with a human partner – he feels that the chance of harm is too high with claws and fangs out, and with his dick larger than normal , not to mention the knot itself.  So he’s never done it with a human and only twice with a wolf partner.

Stiles is wide eyed, listening in awe, and Peter can already tell he’s going to regret ever mentioning this, but the alternative is that Stiles would find out some other way, and Peter doesn’t _want_ to keep anything from him, truth be told.

 

In the end he has to raise a hand to stop the endless flow  of questions, and they agree that Stiles will go home and read everything there is to read, and then they can discuss it.

 

Peter deftly diverts the conversation to the Maze fantasy.

When Stiles was young, the Maze was his favorite thing, even into his teenage years. He just thinks it’s cool ok? He’s spent hours wandering round in there.

He blushes prettily when he tells Peter about the time when he was about fourteen, and he came across a couple doing the deed -  they didn’t see him, and he didn’t linger, but it was enough for the images to be seared into his lustful teenage brain. For the longest time it was his go to fantasy when he wanted to get himself off, and he’s always wanted to try it.

 

Peter thinks that’s something he can help with.

 

      __________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

The best strategy, they decide, will be to go late in the day, maybe  on a Sunday afternoon - less people will be around, they figure.

 

The day arrives, and they drive out there with Stiles already slicked up and stretched, wearing a large plug and no underwear – they both know this will be quick and dirty. Stiles is flushed with excitement, and Peter finds his nervous energy arousing.

The hit the Maze around three, and it seems fortune is smiling on them, because the car park is totally deserted. Stiles is thrilled.

(In fact Peter had called ahead and hired out the place for the afternoon for a “Private Party”, and with the amount he’d offered to pay, the owner had been happy to oblige. Peter just wants to make Stiles’ fantasy come true without any interruptions, thank you. )

 

So Peter distracts Stiles with a kiss, and leads him away from the entrance so he never even sees the lady hanging the discreet “Closed for Private Event “sign.

He’ll tell him later.

 

They go strolling in casually, and once inside among the hedges and fences, Stiles leads them towards the point where he assures Peter they are the least likely to be disturbed.

They stop several times on the way, making out just because they can.

Peter muses that Stiles may be onto something with this. Being outdoors, his wolf comes to the surface more than usual, and adrenaline pumps through his veins.

Suddenly, Stiles breaks away from him, and goes haring away and around a corner, calling out “Catch me if you can!”

Well fuck, it’s all on now.

 

Peter races swiftly after Stiles, wolf clamoring at the thrill of a chase.

 Sure, the young man may know all the routes through the maze, but he’s forgotten about Peter’s sense of smell.

It’s not even a minute before Peter’s caught up with Stiles, picking him up none too gently and throwing him over his shoulder.

There’s a park bench nearby, and he carries Stiles over, unbuttoning his jeans and pushing them roughly down as he goes. Stiles is panting, excited, grinning widely, and he puts up no resistance at all when Peter drops him onto the bench facing forwards.

Peter kneels behind him, pulling his cock out of his pants and stroking roughly.

Stiles expects him to be quick about this, he knows. 

 

Stiles whines when the plug comes out, but he’s chanting “Do it, do it, Peter, want you in me”, as he spreads his legs wider and arches his back.

Peter accepts it for the invitation it is, pushes in with no preamble, and starts thrusting ruthlessly, growling low in his throat as he works his cock in and out. He can already feel that this won’t take long, and he reaches round to tease Stile’s nipples…only to find a familiar chain there.

Stiles has been walking round all this time with clamps on as well as a plug up his ass, and oh, that’s his devious boy, no wonder he’s  so worked up. Peter yanks roughly on the chain, which earns him a pretty yelp from Stiles.

“Shhhhh, keep it down, little rabbit” he growls, even as he continues to pound away, and thinking of Stiles as his rabbit, as _prey,_  that lights a fire inside of him.

He fucks in hard and fast, chasing his release in earnest now , even as he continues to pull steadily on the chain. 

It’s over in mere minutes, Peter driving home with a mighty thrust one final time before he’s pumping out hot streams and panting.

Stiles follows with a strangled cry, painting the bench with his release as he comes untouched.

It’s only moments later when Peter pulls out, wiping  himself on his shirt tail and tucking his cock away with a smirk.

Stiles’ eyes are bright and he laughs, a high tinny sound in the outdoors.

 

“Holy shit, we did it!” he breathes out, euphoric that they’ve actually managed to pull this off.

“Darling, did you ever have any doubt? “ Asks Peter, and if he sounds a little smug, he feels it’s justified. 

They laugh as they lean against each other, making their way slowly towards the exit.

 

 

And that’s where all hell breaks loose.

 The booth attendant is standing at the entrance, a security guard alongside her, pointing at them and squawking “YOU TWO ! YOU….PERVERTS!  Get out! Get out! You’ve defiled my hedges!”

 

Peter stops dead in his tracks.

This is bad.

 

In an attempt to smooth things over, he approaches the woman, using his most velvet tones,  asking “I’m sorry my dear? What seems to be the problem?“

Because there’s no possible way she can know what they’ve been up to, they’ve made sure they’re properly dressed, so what the hell is this?

 

The woman is near purple with indignation, shrieking at them  “You booked for a private party! Everyone knows that’s normally a proposal, so we film it on the security cameras for the happy couple!

 I was watching to make sure we got good footage for you!

Everybody knows what a private party means! It’s not…not …what you two did!

I’m calling the Sheriff!”

 

 

And suddenly Stiles is frozen on the spot. “Security cameras.” He repeats slowly

” You mean…… you filmed that?”

His first thought is that when his Dad finds out he’ll have to leave town, possibly forever. Goodbye Peter, Goodbye library.

 

Shit.

 

At the mention of calling the Sheriff however, Peter stiffens; hackles raising both literally and metaphorically.

 He knows what that could mean to Stiles.

And he’s damned if he’ll let that happen – nobody messes with his boy.

 

____________________________________________________________________________________

 

Peter can be one scary motherfucker when he chooses.

He chooses to be one now.

 

 

Peter stalks toward Booth Woman until he is towering over her, right up in her personal space - ,menacing, _wolfish_ , intimidating, and oh shit, Stiles can see his fangs and claws coming out, that is one _pissed off wolf._

The smooth, velvety voice is gone, replaced by a tone that is pure ice and steel and menace.

 

“That won’t be happening today. We don’t call the Sheriff. We dispose of the tapes, and we ignore that fact that we were being  _illegally_ filmed without our knowledge.”

Booth Woman starts to protest, but one growl from Peter quiets her immediately.

 “Because our other option is this. I will sue you. I will drag your businesses’ name through the mud. And I will close you down for good.”

 “Let’s face it, this place doesn’t make enough to stay open with the size of the lawsuit I will slap you with for breach of privacy.

 So here’s what will happen.You will give the tapes to me. I will compensate you financially for the loss of the tapes. We will leave here. And you will Never. Ever. Mention. This. To. Anyone.”

 

 

There are a couple of tense moments where she tries to stare Peter down, but it’s difficult to win a staring contest with a solid wall of muscle and the stone cold eyes of a Werewolf who is continuously growling, a low steady rumble from deep in his chest.

Stiles can see the exact moment her resolve crumbles, and he lets out a gusty sigh of relief.

She crosses her arms across her chest, and huffs out “Fine! But you two…” here she indicates wildly between Peter and Stiles  “…. filthy degenerates! You’re barred from here for life! ”

Now that he’s got his own way, Peter is all dangerous charm again, fangs and claws  disappearing.

 He makes the necessary assurances that yes, yes, he’ll pay for the day the park will be closed for cleaning, and for the tapes, and for any inconvenience this little misunderstanding has caused, of course. Pleasure doing business with you, and don't we still owe you for this afternoon?.

 

He smoothly pulls out his wallet and hand over five hundred dollars without even blinking, and receives the offending security tape in exchange.

 (Stiles knows that it’s a bribe, plain and simple, but for once in his life he wisely keeps his mouth shut,he doesn't even care, because how the hell are they even getting away with this?)

 

The aggrieved lady makes a big production of taking their photos, mug shot style,  printing them out, and pinning them up above the register in the admittance booth, with their names printed underneath, and the words ‘BANNED  – PUBLIC INDECENCY” written across their foreheads in bold black marker.

They are escorted to their car by the security guard, who is smirking and can’t quite meet their eyes.  The twitch of his lips is contagious, and by the time they are in the car and pulling out of the parking lot, Stiles is giggling and Peter has started to grin.

Peter’s lips quirk up slightly, and suddenly he pipes out “filthy degenerates!” in a passable imitation of Booth Woman’s scandalized tone, and that’s it, Stiles is laughing fit to burst a blood vessel, howling so hard the tears are running down his face, and he can’t seem to stop.

Peter knows that it’s mostly from relief that their adventure isn’t going to be seen by the Beacon Hills Police Department, so he just lets him go, even joining in when Stiles gathers himself enough to squeak out “Everybody knows what a private party is!” And he’s off again, snorting and snickering, without a care in the world.

Stiles finally stops laughing when they get back to the bar and Peter chases him up the stairs, pushes him down across the table as soon as they get inside, and fucks him twice.

 

And as Stiles showers afterwards, Peter smiles serenely to himself, glad that he had the foresight to physically confiscate those tapes. He has them tucked securely in the glove box. Of course he’s going to wipe them, eventually, but he thinks that they might review the footage first.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments , kudos and feedback on this weird little 'verse so far guys, here, have an extra chapter!


	4. Sofa King Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peter and Stiles have a sudden and pressing need to go furniiture shopping, because of a ....thing...that they did.

As Stiles takes in the sight before him, wide eyed, he knows that there’s no two ways about it, this one’s on him. There can be nobody else to blame for this.

Peter’s lying on his back on the remains of his gorgeous couch,groaning, the soft chocolate suede fabric torn to shreds, with rivers of come on his belly and chest. 

Stiles moves up to kiss Peter, since it seems the wolf is incapable of movement (or indeed, anything) at the moment.

He strokes his goatee gently (and Jesus, how did they get come in there as well?) and whispers, “I’m so fucking sorry about your couch man, but that was amazing. Thank you for showing me.”

And then he rubs his fingers through the veritable lake of come on Peter’s  belly and abs, murmuring  “amazing “ under his breath.

 

This…was not what he expected to happen this afternoon.

 

 

He’d come over earlier, since they both had the Saturday off, and he wanted some answers. Peter had been successfully avoiding any discussion about his knot for a month now, (he was a master of avoidance, and had been known to use his neck and chest as a distraction, so Stiles had no chance) and to be fair, they’d both been holding their breath a little, waiting for the other shoe to drop, neither of them quite trusting the owner of the Maze to keep her word and stay quiet about their adventures. But it’s been all quiet on the western front, and they figure that means they’re in the clear.

 

So now, Stiles wants to have the promised conversation, but more importantly, he wants to see what he’s dealing with. His nerdy little heart aches for facts and figures, for visual evidence, for things like _diameter._ And at heart, he’s always been a hands on learner. Today, he wants to see Peter’s knot so he knows what he might possibly be dealing with. I mean really, how big can it be? Surely Peter’s just being dramatic.

 

He knows he needs to be subtle in his approach, broach the subject carefully, so he doesn’t mention it at first, and they spend the first part of the day watching a movie and snuggling up, as per usual. (Stiles wonders briefly when cuddling became usual for them). After the film ends, Stiles climbs into Peter’s lap and they start slowly kissing, Stiles arching his neck so Peter can nibble easily on his throat the way they both like. He waits until they’ve settled into a rhythm of  gentle grinding, until Peter’s distracted, and more importantly, held down, before he breathes out “Hey Wolfman, I read the book’.

 Peter hmmms in return at first, consumed by the truly impressive trail of hickeys he’s sucking into Stiles’ collarbone.  Stiles can see the exact second his brain processes what he’s said, because he goes still beneath him.

 

Peter brings his head up to look at him, asking “Did you rabbit? Did you read all of it this time?”

“Yeah….it’s…. really intense, right?” Stiles replies.

 

“Sweetheart, you have no idea. This isn’t something to play around with. You could get seriously hurt. I still don’t know if I’m comfortable with it, honestly” Peter tells him, in as serious a tone as Stiles has ever heard him use.

 It’s the same tone that Stiles’ Dad uses when he gives the Drug Talk at schools, the Serious Business Tone.

“Hey man, I get it. I don’t ever want you to do something you’re not OK with” Stiles is quick to reassure him.

 Peter believes him utterly, but because he knows Stiles, he also knows there’s more.

 (He knows this because Stiles is blushing. )

“I was just kinda hoping I could at least….maybeseeit?” he squeaks out, and Peter is suddenly reminded that for all his bravado and badassery, Stile was a virgin six months ago, and that as far as experience goes, Peter is it.

And he’s unable to resist the hopeful look in those big brown eyes, so he makes a show of rolling his own, to indicate how _incredibly_ inconvenient this is going to be for him, before answering, “I _suppose_ we could manage that, but be warned, little rabbit, it could get messy.”

Stiles breaks into an incandescent grin, and Peter is undone.

 ___________________________________________________________

 

There’s really nothing special to do to make this happen, he assures Stiles, they just have to let nature take its course, and when he shifts the knot will form. He  covers the couch with a double layer of towels though. (Stiles looks skeptical. Peter shrugs – he’ll see).

He doesn’t want to take this to the bed, because quite frankly he doesn’t trust himself there, the temptation to ravage Stiles would be too great. At least on the couch he can keep some semblance of control, in theory anyhow.

He drapes himself over Stile’s naked body as they pick up where they left off, because Stiles insists that this be what he calls “interactive research”, stating that he doesn’t want to sit by while Peter shows him  “because that would be creepy, Wolfman, like fetishizing you. I don’t just want to see a knot for the sake of it, I want to see _your_ knot cause it’s part of _you_. “

Peter appreciates the consideration behind that thought, and he shows  it by taking Stiles’ shaft in his hand, stroking it until he feels him harden , and then taking him into his mouth all at once. He licks and sucks in all the ways he knows Stiles likes best, and it doesn’t take long until Stiles shoots his load, panting and grinning. Peter has this down to a fine art, and the sounds of pleasure coming from the young man further fuel his own lust.

Peter told Stiles that they didn’t have to do anything special for a knot to form other than for him to shift, but in his experience that’s not quite true.

In Peter’s case, he’s only ever been able to pop a knot when he’s with someone he genuinely has deep affection for. His wolf refuses to contemplate it if there’s not some kind of emotional connection. The deeper the emotional attachment, the more cooperative his wolf is.

The fact that he’s never felt this eager to knot up before is just a happy coincidence, he tells himself.

He’s not emotionally dependent on Stiles.

He’s not.

He might be, a little.

What he definitely is though, is hard as nails. And he’s ready to get this show on the road.

So he rolls over, lays back with his arm behind his head, closes his eyes, and starts stroking himself firmly as Stiles watches on, entranced.

“Feel free to join me anytime, sweetheart” Peter drawls out, and Stiles promptly pushes Peter’s legs up and open, and starts massaging around Peter’s rim. He presses his fingers gently forward until he just barely breaches Peter’s ass, and then rubs in a soft, rhythmic motion, and the reaction he gets is definitely positive, because now Peter’s shaft is leaking freely, bobbing and twitching. 

Stiles hears a muttered curse, and then a throaty growl, a sound he knows Peter only makes when he’s shifting. He leans forwards and takes the head of the werewolf’s cock between his lush red lips, and starts sucking gently.

The growling intensifies, and a glance shows him that Peter’s eyes are flashing and his fangs are out, and yep, the claws are out too. That only leaves one thing.

 

As he swallows Peter’s shaft down further, he feels the stretch on his lips as the base starts to swell more and more. In the end he has to pull halfway back up, because there’s no way that’s fitting in his mouth.

And oh, what a thing of beauty lies before him.

It’s amazing, round and full and massive, and he can’t keep his hands off it, rubbing gently over the stretched surface, even as he continues to suck and bob gently.

Peter is groaning now, a deep guttural sound that speaks of desperation and pleasure all at once. Stiles sucks harder, rubs slightly faster, feeling the enlarged orbs throb beneath his hands. The thought of Peter ever trying to fit this inside him makes him alternatively drool and shiver.

He carries on massaging and sucking, gently squeezing on the knot after a murmured request from Peter.  The reaction to that is the upward thrust of Peter’s hips, so of course he does it again, and again, feeling the knot grow even more as Peter’s arousal intensifies.  Stiles thinks to himself that it’s a good thing he’s already come, because this is so incredibly hot he would have creamed himself like a teenager by now.

After a particularly firm lick and a slight twisting squeeze to the knot, he hears it.

A ripping sound.

Several ripping sounds.

Like…claws through fabric, and he realizes that while he’s been pushing Peter closer towards climax, the wolf’s become desperate, and has started clawing at the sofa cushions in an effort not to knot up into his mouth, and Peter is now hanging on by a thread, literally.

 

Well,then. Business time.

 

Stiles grips Peter’s cock in his hand and starts pumping firmly, while leaning forwards to his neck, sucking and biting and licking, working his way down to Peter’s dusky nubs, where he _bites hard_. Peter howls, and suddenly he’s coming, and the sound of fabric  tearing fills the air once more.

Stiles feels the wet splash of come between their bodies, and because he can, he applies his mouth to Peter’s cock and starts to swallow his release.

 

It doesn’t take long for him to realise that he’s made a serious tactical error here.

 

He swallows, and swallows, and swallows, and swallows, each time thinking this must be it, surely, but Peter _just keeps coming._ Of course, he expected the volume to be more than normal, but this is just out of control.  He finally pulls off, gasping for air, and is hit in the chin with another stream of come as a reward. The ripping sounds continue unabated.

 

Peter’s belly and chest is awash, his come running down and staining the fabric of the ruined furniture, even as his knot continues to pulse. His claws are embedded deeply in the couch.

He’s moaning and cursing round his fangs, “Jesus, Stiles, don’t stop, keep going…” and he’s utterly wrecked.

Stiles  goes back to massaging the knot while licking up the length of Peter’s cock.  As soon as he starts again, Peter’s moaning becomes louder, and he starts thrusting his hips up again, his come still shooting out in hard bursts.

 Stiles is transfixed.

 He’s never seen Peter so totally out of it with sheer need, and he thinks it’s something he wants to see again.

After several minutes where the stream of come continues unabated, he starts laving his tongue around the base of the knot firmly, taking Peter’s cock in his hands and stroking, just so see what effect the new technique will have.

 

The effect is this.

Peter digs his claws further into the couch.

He shreds yet another swathe of fabric.

More come shoots out, at least a foot into the air, as his back arches, his whole body seizes as though from an electric shock,and Peter starts howling, overwhelmed with sensation.

Peter's spasming subsides, and his body hits the couch again. It’s as though somebody’s turned off a tap. His knot starts going soft under Stiles’ mouth and the flow of come suddenly trickles to nothing.

Stiles is quick to remove both hands and mouth, he can see that Peter’s oversensitive, and who can blame him? He’s just come for ten minutes straight.

 

After a few seconds of awed silence, Stiles breathes out “Holy fuck Peter, I didn’t realise….”

 

Peter takes a moment to gather his strength, retracting his fangs and claws, the loose skin of his knot shrinking away, and weakly says “I did try and warn you, rabbit. I know it’s a lot to deal with” as he lays there, sweaty and sticky and awash with bodily fluids.

“You can see why I’m hesitant now. I won’t mind if we never knot Stiles” he pants out.

 

It's a lie. Peter wants this too now, desperately.  

 

Stiles regards him fondly, before grabbing one of the few towels still in one piece, and dabbing ineffectually at the literal bucketload of semen that his boyfriend is laying in.

”I wouldn’t say never, Big Bad, but like I said, not going to do anything you aren’t happy with. But damn, that’s so amazing, maybe we can….do further research before we decide?” Stiles tells him earnestly.

And Peter replies, with real warmth in his tone, “I wouldn’t mind that, sweetheart, I wouldn’t mind that at all. Research is important after all.”

Stiles goes off to search for more towels. Many more towels.

Peter dozes.

 

It takes a full hour before Peter is able to get himself into the shower, and even then Stiles has to support his weight. He falls into a deep sleep immediately afterwards.

Stiles arranges for the disposal of the remains of Peter’s couch, paying a guy he knows fifty bucks to just take it away, no questions asked.

Peter sleeps through the removal of the old couch. He sleeps through the sounds of Stiles mopping the floor where there was an actual come trail leading to the bathroom. He sleeps through dinner. He sleeps like a dead man, with Stiles curled up behind him, secretly enjoying the chance to be Big Spoon for once.

And when he wakes the next morning and Peter’s barely moved, Stiles thinks about Peter’s exhausted state, and he thinks about what the damn book had told him, about how the deeper the emotional attachment a wolf has, the more physically intense and draining a knotting can be, and he wonders if maybe it means something that Peter’s still sleeping sixteen hours later.

He hopes it does.

_________________________________________________________________________

 

When Peter finally does wake, it’s to the smell of bacon. He realizes with a start that it's morning and he wonders exactly how long he’s slept for. He stretches and yawns, then slides out of bed still naked and makes his way towards the kitchen to find the source of the good smell.  On his way through the apartment, he wonders briefly where the hell his couch has gone. Stiles sees him look and announces “I ditched it. It was toast, no saving it, wolfman. We’re going shopping for a new one, once we eat. “

There is a truly impressive pile of bacon sandwiches on the table. Stiles comments that he thought Peter was probably hungry since he’d missed dinner. Peter eats everything put in front of him, because he’s ravenous, the knot took more out of him than it ever has before. He feels sated though, contented, his wolf smug and happy.

Once they’ve showered and dressed, (which takes a little longer than it should, because Stiles _insists_ on blowing Peter, and really, why would he say no to that?), they head into town to the only really decent furniture place, Stiles rambling all the way there about how they need to get leather this time, because it’s much more durable, and at least you can wipe it down.

As they enter the store, arms around each other, Stiles catches the eye of the sales lady and waves. Her gaze glides over the two of them, before she…turns and walks away?

He and Peter look at each other with matching expressions of confusion and head towards the sales desk, it time to hear the woman in question saying “…can’t be expected to deal with people like _that_!” to her manager, who is nodding.

All the warm fuzzies Stiles was feeling from this morning vanish in a flash, and he steps up to the counter and _slams_ his hand down on the bell.

Both staff members look up with a start, and the guy in charge has the decency to look slightly guilty, but the bitch? Her gaze is hard and even.

“People like _what_ exactly miss?” He asks, his tone low and even and _mean_ . “People who are successful business owners? People who are better looking than you?(He indicates Peter, obviously). People who are in a happy relationship? People with a lot of perfectly good cash to spend? _Werewolves?_ Because all those people are _us,_ but we can always go somewhere else if you can’t deal”.

 

Peter is smirking, he loves it when Stiles gets like this. Sue him.

 

The manager raises his hands in a placating gesture, saying “oh no, gentlemen, Cassie wasn’t referring to you at _all,_ she was telling me about another customer we had yesterday who made inappropriate comments to her. We’d be happy to help you shop.”

Peter examines his nails casually, saying  “It’s not a well known fact, but werewolves can hear when you lie, your heartbeat gives it away.”

He’s deeply satisfied by the way the man pales slightly at this tidbit of information.

Because Peter is at heart not an _actual villain,_ he checks there are no small children or families in earshot before  he continues speaking. The coast is clear, so he goes for it.

“We need to see your most ….ah …robust leather couches please. They have to be sturdy, you understand. We wolves don’t know our own strength. We quite destroyed our last piece of furniture in the throes of passion” he says casually.

Stiles quietly chokes next to him, because it’s not even a lie, and the way Peter smirks while he says it is as hot as hell.

Cassie smiles at them, grimaces really, and leads them over to the leather couches as though she’s marching to her execution. Stiles has seen the look the manager gave her, a look that said _don’t fuck this up_ if ever he saw one, and he decides to have a little fun with this.

The first couch the try is nice, a butter-soft leather in a caramel colour, a two seater with enormous squishy arms and deep soft cushions. They settle into it, leaning back, silent for a moment, considering.

“Nope” decides Stiles. “It’s not even close, Peter. We can’t lie down on it properly, it’s too narrow and I’ll get cramp in my legs when you fuck me”.  And he sprawls on his back with his legs spread obscenely wide to prove his point. It’s true, it _is_ too narrow, one leg is jammed up the back of the couch and the other is threatening to spill off the side, and even with his narrow hips his ass is dangerously close to the edge.

Peter catches on, and he’s always loved to shock.

“Oh yes, sweetheart, I see what you mean” he nods seriously, “Once I’m on top of you there’s no way this is going to work”.  And he proceeds to kneel up between Stiles’ legs and drape his body over his top half, causing Stiles to teeter closer to the edge. “I can see that any type of movement is going end in tears and with us both on the floor” and he demonstrates by thrusting his hips forwards hard, just once. He’s wearing tight blue jeans, and the motion looks incredibly obscene. Stiles actually does have to grab his upper arms to stop himself sliding off.

Cassie looks like she has smelled something unpleasant, but quickly schools her features as Peter nimbly hops off and turns to face her, all smiles.

“Something larger perhaps? And with a solid frame. And maybe a built in recliner?”

“Oooh yes, “ Stiles pipes up from behind him where he’s still sprawled on the couch like a seventeenth century poet in a bordello.  “Can we get a recliner? Could ride you so good in one of those, Wolfman “ he snickers filthily.

 

Peter thinks that Cassie must really need this job, or she would never tolerate what happens next. Peter turns to Stiles, extending a hand to help him up, and as soon as Stiles is standing, puts his hands under his thighs and hoists him up effortlessly. Stiles clings on, grinning wildy, as Peter walks across the room to the nearest giant recliner and plops down with Stiles still in his lap.

“Enough leg room at the sides darling? ” he inquires solicitously, as Stiles rearranges his limbs slightly so he is straddling Peter more comfortably.

Stiles raises himself experimentally on his knees, then lowers himself down, grinding slightly and groaning out “Oh yeah Peter, really good” as he continues to rock against Peter’s crotch.

 

They hear the sound of throats being cleared behind them, and turn to find that the manager has joined Cassie, and has his hands on his hips, looking for all the world like a very angry  kindergarten teacher who’s going to give the class a Talking To.

“This is a public place,” he begins, only to be cut off by Peter gesturing grandly around the otherwise empty store and saying “And that’s _exactly_ why we’ve come in on a Sunday morning when it’s quiet, so we can conduct our research hands on, so to speak” and he continues to unashamedly grind up into Stiles. They’re both fully clothed, and yet it still looks downright pornographic. He smirks.

“I think we need two of these darling, in cream, so the come doesn’t show as much” Peter enunciates the last part of the sentence clearly and slowly, because he’s a drama queen at heart.

They take pity on the staff after “testing” only four other couches, going through a variety of positions to make sure the one they finally buy suits then.

By now Cassie looks like she’s going to cry.

When they complete their purchases, Stiles insists on paying, saying “Hey, it was totally my fault the other one got trashed, I asked you to do the thing after all, and this is my thank you for that thing.” He then selects one of the budget model sofas almost at random and adds it to their order, telling Peter “We’ll put this in the spare room, we can use it _next time_ we do the thing, it won’t matter if this gets trashed”, and Peter happily  concedes that he has a point. They remain deliberately vague about what that thing is, knowing it will drive the staff wild with curiosity.

They pay extra for same day delivery, because hey, gotta break those recliners in before Peter goes down to work in the bar tonight.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, this was supposed to be all about furniture shopping, I don't know how that first bit got in there (I'm looking at YOU Stiles)


	5. Sugar Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Stiles wanted was cheese, honestly

Sometimes they aren’t even battles that Stiles chooses.

Sometimes, he’s just tired and hungry after a hard day, and they only came into the market at all because Peter was going to cook him something amazing for dinner but they need the good cheese.

The last thing he wants to hear is those assholes from the garage gossiping, but hear it he does as he rounds the corner into the snack food aisle, having left Peter on Good Cheese Selection Duty.

“I’m telling you, Hale’s freaking loaded “ one of them says, “I mean he owns the bar and a heap of property, and he’s got all that family money. Stilinski’s got himself a Sugar Wolf!” and they all snicker a little meanly at that.

Stiles stops right where he is, reminding himself to breathe, because if he punches this guy and his Dad arrests him he won’t get to eat Peter’s awesome cooking.

 

It nearly works, too.

 

Until the young blonde mechanic, the one who’s been sleeping with the Reverend, chimes in with “Oh come on though guys, have you seen Hale? I mean he’s _old,_ but fuck he’s _hot._   I’d take that cock up my ass in a hot minute too if he paid me!” This is met by a chorus of gagging from the others, because God Forbid their redneck masculinity survives any talk of gay sex.

 

 Stiles almost feels bad for what he’s about to do.

But fuck it, he’s cranky, and he wants his fucking cheese soufflé and he wants people to get the hint and to leave them the fuck alone. And what the fuck even _is_ a Sugar Wolf?

“Hey! Hey Peter! Get over here man!” he shouts, loudly enough for the group of assholes to realise he’s there.  “There’s a guy here who says you can put your dick in his ass if you pay him, cause you’re hot!” Stiles hollers, drawing the attention of every single shopper in the place.

 

“Hang on sweetheart, I’ll be right over to check him out” Peter calls back, and Stiles sees the moment when the realization  dawns on the faces in front of him that this is not going to end well.

He hears a muttered “They’re right here, dude, fuck! You know what he’s  like!”

Apparently he and Peter are gaining a reputation. Excellent.

 

“Um, hey, Stiles right? We were just fooling around, you know that yeah?” one of them tries, but words fail him when Stiles turns to face him with the fakest, brightest, smile ever, and a manic gleam in his eye.

He looks totally deranged.

“I think you’ll like him Peter, come see if you want to tap this. I’d tap it!” He yells. (Which is a total lie, because he’s a one wolf kinda guy, but the look of shock on his victim’s face is so, so satisfying).

 

Peter finally arrives, bearing his precious Vintage Cheddar, and greets Stiles with a kiss.

One day he’ll be the responsible adult and stop enabling Stiles in these situations, he thinks, but today is not that day.

“So, which one of you fine gentlemen wants to offer me your ass in return for being your, what was the term? Ah yes, _Sugar Wolf_?”  he asks smoothly,  one eyebrow arched and levelling a distinctly unimpressed look at the sheepish group.

 

The poor fool who opened his mouth is abandoned by his friends as they all shuffle back, leaving him standing alone in front of Peter and Stiles with his head hanging down, red in the face, and shooting murderous looks at his workmates.

Peter looks distinctly predatory as he circles the poor boy, looking him up and down with a low “hmmm” before suddenly slapping his ass.

 The boy makes a squeaking noise.

Peter puts his hands on his hips, looks consideringly, and decides “Oh no. I don’t think so, not my type at all.  I prefer my men a whole lot smarter, and a lot better looking. You stick with your friend the reverend.” He then moves forward, crowding the young man, whispering into the poor sap’s ear, but still loud enough for the other assholes to hear.   “But I’ll tell you what. You’re obviously desperate for cash since you’re willing to prostitute yourself out to any passing wolf. So I’ll pay you to do something else for me.”

 

He waits for an answer. Hell, the whole store waits for an answer. This is prime gossip fodder and will be all over town within an hour.

The young man gulps and asks “what do you want me to do?” in a small voice.

 

Stiles can see that he’s terrified. Good.

Peter pulls out his wallet, takes out a twenty, and slaps it against the man’s chest. He keeps his hand there while he backs his victim up against the shelving, and then he growls out “I’ll pay you to KEEP OUT OF _MY FUCKING BUSINESS_!” ending the sentence with a loud roar.

The smell of fresh urine hits the air. Peter steps back, grinning evilly.

Stiles cackles.

“ _Clean up on aisle three_ ” he says to nobody in particular, as he and Peter walk to the front of the store nonchalantly and pay for their cheese. Stiles insists that he pay, saying loudly “I’d hate people to think I’m only with you for your money, wolfman”.  Peter agrees with him, stating “Obviously. It’s because I’m excellent in bed, right sweetheart? ”, with a shark – like grin.

“Yeah, that’s part of it” Stiles replies softly, and this time the smile they share is genuine as they head home.

 

( Given the option by Peter of a) waiting for him to make that soufflé or b) Peter getting naked _right now_ in that recliner so Stiles can ride him, it turns out that a grilled cheese sandwich made with Vintage Cheddar is a perfectly good meal.)

 

 

Stiles is draped across Peter’s chest afterwards, running his fingers through his hair, and decidedly less cranky now.

“I’m sorry” he sighs, “I was going to walk away, and then it just pissed me off so much that they think you would have to buy yourself company, I kinda went a little crazy there.”

Peter eyes him curiously and asks “That’s what bothered you? Not that they thought you were the sort of person to sleep with me for money?”

Stiles shrugged  “ Nah, those guys have always been assholes to me, I’m used to it. But I’m sorry you got dragged into it, I know you probably cringe when I go overboard like that”.

Peter raises Stiles head up so they are looking each other in the eye.

“Stiles, I think there is nothing as hot on this earth as you in Mama Bear mode. I find it incredibly arousing that you’re so protective of me, and I’m going to continue to actively encourage it” he states.

“You haven’t been encouraging me; it’s all been my idea.”

“Haven’t I though, Stiles? Think about it carefully” Peter grins.

Stiles turns the idea over in his mind, considering. “I mean of course, we do have some great sexy times after ,there were the epic blowjobs after Tammygate, and there was the time after the diner where we went to the hotel for the day and I had to call into work sick the next morning because I couldn’t really walk ,and twice over the table after the maze, well that was _so fucking_ hot, and we gotta watch that tape again, and well, buying these chairs, and Peter Hale have you been _rewarding my inappropriate public behavior with sex all this fucking time?”_

“Yes” Peter states smugly.

 “Well stop it!” Stiles screeches. “Dammit, I do that shit so people will leave us alone, leave _you_ alone! I don’t need a damn reward, I’m not a fucking dog that you’re teaching to do tricks!”

 

Peter blinks – what did he miss?

The next instant, he’s up and out of the chair, off Peter’s lap, pulling on his clothes and looking absolutely _murderous._

 

“Christ almighty Peter, I really thought you’d changed, but you’re still a manipulative bastard at heart, aren’t you? “ he throws over his shoulder as he slams out the door.

Leaving Peter, sitting stunned, naked in his recliner and wondering what the hell just happened.

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Stiles goes home to his fathers. Where else is there for him, really? Not his empty apartment, certainly. He drives to his Dad’s place with angry tears running down his face, a chant of _Stupid, stupid, stupid_ , ringing in his head.

Because the thing is, Stiles has never been that big on PDA. I mean, he doesn’t mind what other people do, but it was never a thing of his. And now, suddenly with Peter egging him on, he’s dry humping in a furniture shop!

That’s not the upsetting part though – Stiles is happy to own his actions, hell he’d probably do it again with the right person. And that’s the really upsetting part. Because he’d started to think maybe he and Peter had more than a thing, that maybe there were some feels involved. When Peter had shown him his knot, he’d been blown away by the trust that took. He’d thought it meant Peter cared.

So for Peter to gleefully tell him that he’s been training him to make out in public like one of Pavlov’s fucking hounds means that now he has to question all those feelings, because if Peter could train him to do tricks, who’s to say Peter hasn’t trained him into thinking that he cares?

 

He pulls into the driveway at home, not bothering to knock as he enters, because his Dad will be watching TV , same as always. One look at his face and his dad is pulling him into a hug, asking “Did he hurt you?” and stroking Stile’s back.

Suddenly Stiles is eight years old again.

 

He sobs like his heart might break, heedless of the cold trickle of come in the back of his jeans, heedless of the fact he’s wearing no shoes, nothing existing for him but the safe haven of Noah’s arms. He could just stay there, but his dad is prompting him for an answer –“ Stiles, are you hurt? Is it Peter? Is Peter hurt? Tell me, son”.

 

And so he wipes his tears, and curls up on the sofa, and tells his Dad that this whole time Peter has been using him for entertainment, training him like some sad circus act to perform whenever somebody says something he doesn’t like. He skips through the tale, aware that some things his Dad will never want to know, and finishes with  " and then the bastard says “Stiles, I think there is nothing as hot on this earth as you in Mama Bear mode. I find it incredibly arousing that you’re so protective of me, and I’m going to continue to actively encourage it”, and tells me he’s been rewarding me with sex this whole time!”

He looks up to see his father looking thoughtful, fingers steepled in front of his face. “Son, I love you, but you’re an idiot” the sheriff sighs.

“Ask yourself; who was the instigator of the mischief, Stiles? Who’s idea was the library? Because I know what I saw at the diner that day, and that, son, was all you. The furniture shop, it sounds like you both were as bad as each other, and please don’t even tell me what happened to that couch, I saw the remains out at the dump and that’s a story I never want to hear. Same with the supermarket – who called Peter over, exactly? It doesn’t sound like Peter ever asked you to do any of those things”

And Stiles bursts out “That’s my point, it was me, and I wouldn’t have done any of it unless I cared, and now he doesn’t care back!”

The Sheriff sighs.”Of course he cares! He didn’t say that this was entertaining, he said it was arousing, and that’s a hell of a difference. And what turns him on is that _you care_ ! For _him_! Do you know how long it’s been since anyone gave a damn about that man? Because let me tell you, it’s been a hell of a long time. Peter’s a damn wolf, of course protective behavior is going to make him happy! So go talk to him, please, because from where I’m sitting, you make each other happy.”

Stiles pouts, and considers Noah’s words. He…might not be completely wrong.

But he’s stuck on the point that Peter’s been rewarding him for his bad behavior, and tells his Dad so.

“Was your behavior that bad though, son? If it’s done some good? You might have put that library display up to piss your neighbor off, but it helped a hell of a lot of other people at the same time. And Mrs Saunders in the diner? She’s had that coming for a long time, that was practically a public service. You and Peter have made it OK to date differently, and nobody would condemn you for that. In fact..” he pauses uncomfortably, and something in his tone makes Stiles look, really look at his Dad and his surroundings.

There are two coffee cups in the sink.

Noah looks relaxed, like he hasn’t in a long time.

There are two coffee cups in the sink and his Dad only ever reuses the same one, and only in the morning.

 

“Dad, are you…dating?” he asks carefully.

“Well, at least I know you won’t judge me for the age difference. It’s Jordan.”

Stiles gapes. “Jordan Parrish. You’re dating Jordan Parrish, deputy, hellhound. Possibly the nicest man alive, when he’s not on fire” Stiles states incredulously.

“Yup”

“Even though he’s a man”

“Yup”

“And a hellhound”

“Yep” Noah confirms cheerfully, “he asked me out a couple of weeks ago. Said he figured if I was OK with you and Peter, I might be open minded enough to give him a chance. He’s been interested for years, who knew? Apparently he was under the impression that I was completely straight.”

“Dad, I think everyone was under the impression you were completely straight” snorts Stiles

“I don’t know why you college kids think you invented the damn rainbow, I tried a lot of things before I met your mother Stiles, and I liked a lot of them too” Noah throws back.

And at that, Stiles hugs his dad, and tells him to be sure and play safe, and that police handcuffs are for police business, not playtime, which earns him a light whack around the back of the head.

“Go back and talk to your wolf, Stiles” his dad tells him. “Remember, wolves are protective by nature, and you’ve been protecting him, is it any wonder he wants to have that continue? We all reward good behavior in the people we love, to some degree, hell you’ve probably done it to him” and Stiles suddenly thinks of how he always stays at Peter’s when he can, because he likes it better.

The sound of the penny dropping is deafening.

Peter hasn’t been training him because he doesn’t care.

He’s been rewarding him because he does.

Stiles thinks his Dad is right.

He’s an idiot.

As he grabs his keys to go and have possibly the most uncomfortable conversations of his short life (one that will contain those awful words “I’m sorry. I was wrong”) he hugs his dad, who then shoos him out the door, saying “Go, you’re cramping my style, I’ve got a hot date coming over”.

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 

There’s nothing like being left sitting naked in a puddle of your own jizz on a leather recliner to tell you you’ve screwed up big time, Peter thinks wryly.

As he gets up and finds some clothing, he wracks his brain to see what’s made Stiles so upset. As a wolf, it’s instinctive for him to provide for those he cares about, and in Stiles case, well, he doesn’t need anything.He’s an independent adult. He has somewhere to live, a good job, a steady income, his own transport, what the hell is there left for Peter to do for him except make him feel good?

Sure, there are occasional gifts, but really this is the only thing he can give Stiles that’s just for him. OK, it’s for them. Why is the fact he likes to make Stiles feel good when he’s pleased with him such a deal breaker?

Muttering about damn stubborn asses to himself as he dresses, he tries to figure out where Stiles would have gone. Maybe the library, he has keys and it’s quiet there. Maybe his place? No Peter doesn’t think he would risk the looks he’d get from Tammy if he shows up there upset. So the Sheriff’s house it is then.

His wolf is anxious, his boy has gone and it’s unhappy, wanting to snuggle Stiles close and make things right. They’ve been dating six months and this is their first fight. Peter hopes it isn’t their last.

He’s just about to head out the door when he gets a text from Noah.

It says simply **Sty hm**

Peter wonders whether the Sheriff will actually kill him for hurting his son, or just maim him a little.

Then his phone pings again with another message

**Stileson**

And another

**Wy ever**

What the hell does that mean?

The next second his phone rings and the sheriffs number flashes up on screen. Peter answers with “What the hell Noah?” “Goddam tiny letters on these phones” Noah growls” Stay there, he’s coming over. And don’t panic.“ and with that, he hangs up.

So Peter dutifully doesn’t panic, and he carefully wipes down the recliner, (Stiles was right, leather is a winner) and he makes a cheese soufflé, and it’s in the oven cooking by the time he hears a careful knock at the door.

The fact that Stiles is knocking makes his chest clutch a little, because he gave him a key two months ago and he’s never hesitated to use it, till now. He feels better when the knock comes again, louder this time, with a muffled "Open the damn door Peter, I forgot my key.”

He opens the door, and there stands Stiles, scruffy as all hell, barefooted, and face streaked from crying, but wearing a watery grin, like he’s trying it on for size and can’t quite decide if it’s a fit.

He’s holding a container of ice cream in one hand. He gestures at it with his other hand as Peter stands there silently, saying “I figured if we kiss and make up we can share, and if you send me away because I’m an asshole and an idiot, I can binge on it”.

Peter steps aside to let him in, and asks him “Stiles, what the hell did I do? Because I have no fucking clue” and if he sounds a little put out, well maybe he is.

Stiles runs his hand through his hair and answers, “Honestly? You forgot that I haven’t dated a whole hell of a lot and I don’t know all the rules yet. You forgot I’m not a werewolf and that I don’t understand this weird provider and protector thing you have going on, and you didn’t tell me how you felt, like a normal person would, instead of just giving me sex like kibble treats, and then I thought you maybe felt nothing, and that maybe I was just here to entertain you, “Hey here’s Stiles my trained seal, he’ll perform on demand if I blow him just right,” and then I got _angry,_ and them my dad had to talk some sense into me and break it to me that you were doing what all couples do, encouraging things they like in each other, and oh god I’m an idiot and if you could maybe say something now?” Stiles trails off, gently setting the ice cream on the bench, and judging from the long silence from Peter, he think’s maybe he’ll be eating it alone, after all.

 

But then Peter drags him suddenly into a fierce hug, holding on tight until Stiles squawks “Hey, air man, some of us need it” and yes, OK, possibly he was holding on slightly too tight.

“You’re right Stiles, he whispers. “ I did forget. It’s been a long time since I had anyone to show I cared, and you, you don’t need anything, so how the hell am I supposed to provide? But I can give you this” And he pulls Stiles into a tender kiss.

“Yeah, well, maybe I over reacted, but I freaked out, I thought this was nothing to you, and then my Dad told me I’m an idiot and to talk to you, so I’m sorry Peter, ” Stiles confesses, once his lips are free.

“Your Dad’s not wrong Stiles, you are an idiot, but so am I, so we’re well matched, you and I “ Peter murmurs.

They only stop kissing when the oven timer dings, causing Stiles to snicker and comment “remember my awesome cooking on our first date?”

“Distinctly, my dear boy, that’s why I’m cooking for us now” Peter replies.

Stiles comes back with “Hmmm, how can I reward that good behavior of yours?”

“Not funny Stiles, too soon” Peter grouses, but he’s smiling just a little.

And just like that, they’re moving forward.

Stiles notes that Peter still hasn’t admitted he cares in so many words, but it’s kinda implied by the creation of this perfect soufflé, so he’ll take it.

 

Noah gets a text from Peter **Sheriff – everything good, taking care of your boy.**

He replies

**K**

Because that’s all he can manage with one hand, and the other is wrapped around Jordan Parrish, who’s nuzzling against him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Noah Stilinski texts like an eighty year old, and you cannot tell me otherwise.  
> The text to Peter was meant to say  
> "Stay home, Stiles on way over"  
>  but Noah keeps hitting send by mistake, and those vowels will be the death of him.
> 
> (Shamelessly based on my other half's atrocious texting and general technophobia). 
> 
> Also, nobody was more surprised than me at him dating Parrish, but really, can you blame him?


	6. The Stilinksi Effect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Stiles and his father spend the day out with their beaus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the last chapter, and I suddenly realised I accidentally wrote a 5 +1.  
> Oops.  
>  But there are a few more ideas for Rabbit verse rattling round, I mean we haven't seen Stiles the bridezilla yet, right? So maybe subscribe to the series so you don't miss any more of this ridiculous story :)

Beacon Hills is a relatively small town, and local news gets around, fast.

Not accurately, but fast.

 

Stiles is approached in the street by people wanting to confirm that he’s a pimp, because he was heard offering to sell someone’s ass at the market.

 

Peter is asked if he’s broken up with Stiles, because they heard he propositioned a kid at the market.

 

One of the assholes at the garage ends up single because his girlfriend heard he was pimping out the young blonde to a wolf at the market.

 

The young blonde gets many many private Facebook messages, asking how much he charges per hour, and does he only do wolves?

 

Stiles thinks it was their finest hour, big awkward argument that followed notwithstanding.

 

 

_But also,_

A fourteen year old seeks Stiles out at the library, asking if his Dad is really OK with him being gay, and can he help him tell his own father? (Stiles goes along, the dad’s someone he knows vaguely from the library, and he’s not actually surprised at his son’s news. It’s good.)

 _But also_ ,

Business is suddenly picking up at the bar. Like a lot. Especially on the weekend. It’s mainly guys from the next couple of towns over. It’s mainly _couples_ from the next couple of towns over. Some of them human couples, some of them wolves, some of them a mixed couple like Stiles and Peter.

Suddenly, BBW has become the hottest Were friendly gay bar for 200 miles.

Apparently word of their antics has got out, and people figure if there’s anywhere they can drink and feel safe, it’s the place where the owner and his boyfriend are famous for taking no shit. (Also, Peter’s BBW wings are really good.)

 

_But also,_

There’s a request from the council for Beacon Hills Werewolf Appreciation Month at the library to be an annual event, because the community feedback was the most positive they’ve ever had. Stiles absolutely crows when he hears this, and starts planning an even bigger display than last year. He’s compiling a sound track.

 

_But also,_

The last time Peter and Stiles went out to breakfast, they held hands as they walked to the diner. Did they get a couple of looks? Quite honestly Stiles couldn’t tell you, he was too busy enjoying his date. But what he does know is that nobody gave them any shit, and when he saw  Mrs Saunders, she was actually civil.

Stiles thinks maybe they’ve done more than they first meant to when they set out to troll Tammy. He hopes it means things will be easier for his Dad and Jordan.

*************************************************

 

When Stiles had shared who his dad was dating, Peter had just laughed, and commented that it was time Parrish grew a pair and asked. Stiles had squawked when Peter pointed out that anyone with eyes could see Jordan had been pining. When Stiles protested that _he_ certainly hadn’t, Peter challenged him to check again.

Armed with a new perspective, Stiles thought of all those times Parrish had picked up an extra coffee for Noah, an extra sandwich; the times he had invited all the deputies over to his place for a barbecue, always conveniently when his dad was off shift and able to attend, and realised that he really was clueless.

He told Peter this, who said; “Don’t feel bad, rabbit, you get it from Noah, he had no clue either”.

 

Peter is _incredibly_ amused that somehow Noah and Jordan have been dating for three months now, openly going out together, and _nobody has noticed yet_.

  He know that it’s because the two have worked together for so long, that when people see them out at the diner together, or the movies, their mind supplies an automatic filter that says either Cops On The Job, or Platonic Workmates After Hours – nobody really _looks,_ nobody sees  the hand on the shoulder, lingering,  nobody sees the shy kisses Jordan sneaks when he thinks he can get away with it.

It’s like people see the pair of them, but they don’t think couple, they literally think “Police Line – Do Not Cross”.

 

It’s the greatest completely open secret Beacon Hills has ever seen.

 

The four men get together at least once a week, usually at the bar for Peter’s wings and free beer. Whoever’s behind the bar, Stiles always tells them he’ll “settle up with Peter later” and waggles his eyebrows. They normally roll their eyes at him fondly.

(Of course there was that one week they had a new guy, who took Stiles seriously, and carefully kept a tally of everything they ate and drank, and presented Stiles with the bill.Peter called him a dumbass and sacked him – his logic was, if you don’t recognize your boss’s boyfriend when he’s sitting _next to your boss_ on a night off, you’re too stupid to work here.)

Stiles and his Dad are more alike than people realise, Peter thinks, watching father and son leaning into the bar and laughing together. The easy charm, the quick mind, the bad jokes, the broad set of their shoulders – in a lot of ways, Stiles and Noah are like peas in a pod.  He briefly wonders if the Sheriff was the one to pass down Stile’s other very generous gift, or if that came from his mother’s side. He decides that he really, really doesn’t want to know. There’s not enough brain bleach in the world.

 

 **************************************************************

 

The weather’s warming up, and Noah thinks it might be good to get out in the fresh air. He suggests they all go to the Maze, because “You loved that place when you were younger Stiles, remember?”

He’s met by two identical stricken expressions, and two panicked cries of “NO!!”

“Why not?” he asks innocently, “it could be romantic.You could kiss in the hedges”

Stiles blurts out “Peter has a fear of hedges!”  

Peter looks at him in disbelief.

The sheriff looks from one to the other, and slowly asks, “Is this one of those things I don’t want to know about?”

He pauses and looks at them expectantly, watching them squirm for a full minute before he snickers, and asks  “ And does it have to do with the photos that are up in the ticket booth out there?” because of course he knows.S

Something else Noah Stilinski has in common with his son is that he’s a fucking troll.

After he finishes laughing at the expression on their faces, ignoring their sputtered excuses, (and thank you sooo much for joining in, real funny Jordan, thinks Stiles,) Jordan suggests a day at the pool. They all sit quietly for a moment as they consider it.

Stiles is thinking of Peter’s chest hair, wet and glistening, and his abs all out in the open for him to look at.

Peter is thinking of Stiles’ lithe, long limbs, broad shoulders, and his ass in wet shorts.

Noah is thinking of Jordan’s muscled chest, and his smooth skin, and hoping that he’ll get to see a lot more of his deputy  - they’re taking it slow.

Jordan is thinking about finally seeing Noah’s thick thighs out of their casing of denim, and hoping that if he plays his cards right and flashes enough skin, Noah will finally cave, and take him home and fuck him.

**********************************

Stiles has to admit, Peter’s logic is flawless – it’s not often they have to try and behave in public, so why not get any sexual tension out of their system early in the day, so they’ll be calm and collected later.

He submits willingly to Peter gently fingering him open, then straddles him and slides slowly onto his cock with a satisfied sigh. It’s a position that he loves, because he gets to watch Peter come apart beneath him, and he rocks lazily, taking it slow, making it good, because he actually _does_ want to get through today without any incidents if he can help it.

He adjusts his position a little, and gasps as Peter manages to target his prostate. He starts raising himself up a little more, taking Peter in deeper now, sliding him almost completely out before dropping down. He starts clenching his ass simply because it feels so good for both of them. He hears Peter’s breath hitch and smiles wickedly as he increases his pace, at the same time using one hand to steady himself, and with the other pulling and twisting at Peter’s peaked nipples, working the nubs one at a time until they are both swollen and puffy. Peter has started whining below him, and is now thrusting his hips upward, past going slow, trying to gain momentum as he chases his release.

Stiles slides down again onto his cock, and then stops dead. He’s just clenching gently, waiting, waiting, teasing…any minute now…..

And there it is. With a growl, and eyes flashing, Peter flips him onto his back and jackhammers into him, short cruel thrusts that nail his prostate squarely and feel oh so good. Peter grabs his cock and starts stroking, and it’s not long before they’re both panting out their release.

As Peter withdraws afterwards, he chastises Stiles, saying “You shouldn’t tease like that rabbit, you make my wolf come out. It’s really not very nice”.

Stiles shamelessly wipes up his come using the corner of the sheet and replies smugly “But it’s nice for _meeeee,_ Peter” and Peter has to admit, he has a point – Stiles does enjoy it so much when he’s pinned down and fucked.

 

They roll lazily out of bed, shower, and get ready to go out, wrapping their towels round their waists and packing up the other paraphernalia that goes with a day out - sunscreen, a magazine for Peter, an atrocious Harlequin romance for Stiles, flip flops.

They roll up to the pool at around eleven, just as the sun is starting to get some bite to it, and find Noah and Jordan have beaten them there. They’ve secured  four of the good  sun loungers (Stiles quietly fist pumps) and are already settled in.

 

All four of them drop the towels around their waists.

There are three sets of board shorts.

 There is one white speedo.

 

 Stiles’ eyebrows raise up to his hairline.

Peter arches an eyebrow. 

Noah looks flustered.

And Jordan? He looks smug. He looks like a man with a plan.

 

Peter murmurs out of the corner of his mouth “He does realise that will be see through when it’s wet, right”?

Stiles replies “Yep. He knows”

 

They dump their stuff, and then Stiles whips his teeshirt off and is diving straight into the water, followed by Peter.  They grope at each other’s wet bodies shamelessly, splashing and wrestling, Peter throwing Stiles up and out of the water and then catching him effortlessly. Stiles thinks he’ll never be tired of werewolf strength.

They fool around like children for a good while, before waving at the other two to come join them. Noah declines, he’s enjoying the sight of Jordan soaking up the sun next to him, and if he’s glancing at Peter appreciatively as well, then hey, good taste runs in the family, OK?

Jordan, though.

Jordan gets wet.

He doesn’t just run and jump in though.

Instead, he makes a show of sliding his tank top up over his shoulders, flexing and rolling them so the rippling muscles are on display. He walks casually to the edge of the pool and bends over to dip his hand in, as though he’s testing the temperature.  He arches his back as he stands up again, then poses his arms up over his head, before executing a perfect dive into the water and swimming a lazy lap to the other end, climbing out and walking back with a sinuous grace, and yep, the white speedo is now slightly translucent. It’s not _quite_ indecent, but it’s certainly toeing the line hard enough to scuff the chalk.

There’s a dark shadow where his happy trail leads down into the white scrap of material, and the wet fabric clings to an impressive bulge.

Jordan Parrish is packing heat.

 

Stiles and Peter stop what they are doing, and stare openly. They’re dating, but also, they have eyes, OK?

 Peter speaks first  - “that, rabbit, is a man who knows what he wants.”

Stiles breathes out a quiet “holy shit, Batman” as he drinks in the sight before him.

Is it wrong to be perving on his dad’s date?

He feels a little better when he notices he’s not the only one. Peter is looking at that. _Everyone_ is looking at that, including Noah, and suddenly Stiles is glad he’s spent years encouraging a healthy heart in his dad, because he thinks that Noah is going to be getting one mother of a cardio workout in the very near future.

Noah looks like he’s been struck by lightning. His mouth is hanging open. He’s motionless.

Peter gives Stiles a look that’s pure mischief, and drawls, “let’s up the ante shall we?”

And then he’s up and out of the pool, springing up onto the edge like it’s nothing, and walking over to Jordan, draping a lazy arm across his shoulders, saying “Looking good, Parrish, been working out?’

Jordan blushes a little at the attention from the older wolf, but he’s nothing if not quick on the uptake, so he leans in a little and replies “Not looking too shabby yourself Peter, for an old guy”.

Peter snorts, bodily lifts Jordan off the ground, carries him over to the Sheriff and drops him onto his lap, saying “So impolite! Teach your young man some manners Sheriff. There’s nothing better with a fine older man”

Stiles has climbed out of the water and walked over by now, and he hums in agreement, looking at a gorgeous, wet Peter. He looks just as good as he’d expected, with water dripping down his chest and the boardshorts clinging to his ass and showing it off.  Stiles wraps his arms around his waist.

“Not disagreeing with you, Peter “ counters Jordan, as he eyes the older man he’s now draped  across, and he puts his arms around Noah’s neck, and is rubbing noses with him, Eskimo style, affectionate.

Noah is helpless is the face of such an attack.

He pulls Jordan in for a long, slow, very public kiss, and suddenly, just like that, Beacons Hills' greatest open secret is no longer a secret, as the patrons of the Beacon Hills Public Swimming Pool are treated to a display that is much hotter than the sun they came to get some relief from.  (Very few of them mind.)   

  

There’s the sound of a throat clearing next to them, and they turn to see the Lifeguard standing there, watching the Sheriff and Jordan making out.

 Stiles holds his breath, waiting to see how this will play out. Peter tenses slightly in his grip.

“Hey Sheriff, “  the man begins hesitantly,  “Just a reminder that there a quite a few families out here today, so if you can try and be an example of  appropriate public behavior” and here his eyes flick accusingly towards Stiles and Peter, “That’d  be great.”

 

Noah regards him for a tense minute, considering, Jordan still in his lap.

 

Then, Peter sees exactly where Stiles gets it from, as  Noah breaks into a wide grin, and replies, deliberately misunderstanding  ‘Sure thing!  I understand completely! What kind of an example am I setting?”

And he holds out his hand, calling “Stiles! Bring that sunscreen kiddo! Gotta set a sun smart example for the kids, right? You three, get some hats on, skin cancer prevention and all that” as he dribbles the sun cream into his hand and begins smoothing it sensually over the planes of Jordan’s back and shoulders.

“Thanks for the reminder!” he says brightly.

And the guard, he’s not stupid, and he actually really likes the Stilinskis and their no bullshit policy (he’s only over here on orders from his boss) and hey, at least the necking has stopped, so he nods, says “You’re welcome, Sheriff” and walks away.

 

 

 In the end, Noah only lasts another twenty minutes before the sight of Jordan sauntering round the pool’s edge in those wet tight trunks has him exclaiming that dammit, he thinks he’s left the door unlocked at home, he’d better go, and quickly grabbing his stuff and bolting for the car, the towel he’s wrapped around his waist not hiding the bulge there in the least.

Father’s side then, Peter’s mind supplies helpfully.

Parrish calls out after him, ‘Hey, if you’re going home I could swing by with that thing you wanted?” in what is possibly the lamest line ever.

“Meet you there!” the sheriff calls back, and that’s it, they’re both gone, Jordan smiling as wide and bright as the sun as he _sprints_ to the carpark and drives off with a squeal of tires.

“I feel like I should be more disturbed by that, but mainly I’m just happy he’s found someone,” muses Stiles.

“Poor Parrish -another victim of the Stilinksi Effect” Peter replies smoothly, pulling Stiles in for a soft and completely appropriate kiss.

They’ll head home soon, but for now it’s nice, lazing in the sun, being outside, being together.

 


End file.
